Chapter Four: Touch-Starved
"After you."
I can't help the flirty smile as I step into the elevator before him. Now that I know he's this attractive and exactly my type, my unofficial timeline has sped up. He follows me and stands on my right.
So I go for it. After all, it's why I'm here.
"You know, you're pretty hot," I decide on, looking up at him boldly.
The statement obviously takes him by surprise. His mouth curls into a barely-there bemused smile, before breaking into a grin when he looks at me. I must be his type to because he seems pretty open to flirting this early.
"You're pretty forward," he chuckles.
"Life's too short to be coy."
I make as cute a face as I can and look up at his amused expression through my lashes. And I mean look up. He's got the kind of height most girls look for.
Our shoulders are touching. He looks as good in leather as Jason- only Roy wears black, along with a trucker's hat and jeans. It's a trashy look that suits him but also draws me in. In the kindest way, he looks all sorts of dangerous and fucked-up. My favourite.
His tongue darts out over his lips as he stares back, a new glint in his eye. He's being obvious about it, which I like because it means his confidence isn't as shot as Jason thought. His gaze drops from my eyes, down the front of my body and back up to my mouth before he bites his lip.
Holy fuck, that was hot.
Gods have to be involved in bringing us together because he's far too fitting for the Lana-del-Rey-esque dream boy I've been waiting for. I already sound like a lovesick puppy.
I slowly start to lean up on my toes, he starts to lean down.
"Agreed?" I ask, almost there.
"What can I say?" He says back, "You're pretty hot too."
This guy was definitely a flirter before.
Then the elevator doors open. It doesn't exactly burst our bubble because we don't separate in a hurry, still caught up in the moment. I don't take my eyes off his as I reach for his hand. I can literally hear his heartbeat racing. I wonder if he's hard?
"Coming?" I try not to snort, backing out of the elevator.
Regaining himself, he smirks, letting me drag him out onto the street. It's not too late so there are people bustling everywhere. I adjust our fingers so we're holding hands properly.
"It's pretty busy out here, you better not let go," I warn playfully. It's a risk, but one I'm glad I took when he winks at me.
"Café's this way," he says casually, voice almost sounding strange like he's trying to cover up the huskiness. That little moment really got to him huh?
I wonder if this café has a sizeable bathroom?
The feeling of normalcy is kind of nice. We seem to blend in with the mixed crowd. Families, couples, groups of teens, friends, singles pass by laughing or silent or on the phone. No one spares us a glance.
As it's cold, I use the opportunity to cuddle up to his arm as we walk.
"That's nice," he comments, sounding content.
"Aren't you cold?" Everyone else is relatively rugged up. It must have snowed lightly after I arrived.
"Not anymore," he grins.
I squeeze his arm, "Cute."
We make a left at the end of the block.
"Have you done this before?" He asks.
"What?"
There is shouting from the other side of the street. Only half the crowd react as two men stumble out onto the road, fighting. Ah, Gotham. We continue to walk when a strong gust of wind cuts in from the side.
I squeak, because I really don't like the cold. It makes him laugh.
"I mean have you ever been in an... arrangement like this?"
I realise then that we might have different ideas about what this is.
"What did Jason tell you about me, exactly?"
We and the people around us stop at the traffic lights. Roy puffs out his cheeks and ponders an answer. When the crowd starts moving again I can see the name of the café up ahead.
"He said you were born in Gotham, that you lived in Star and came back here at sixteen. He said you do your job at...night."
"'My job'?" I question.
His face contorts like he can't quite choose the words.
I smirk when I understand, "Killing?"
Relieved, he nods, "Killing."
"But you're asking if I've ever done something like this? I don't get it." His mouth forms a series of shapes but he obviously doesn't know what to say. Or, he does, and is worried about offending me.
That's when it clicks.
"I'm not a prostitute," I state dryly. A middle-aged man standing in front of us hears and frowns over his shoulder. "I just pose as one. Besides, would it be so bad if I was?"
"No! No, not at all. You just seem to know what you're doing. I thought maybe you'd done this before."
I shake my head no.
"Never. I've got my own reasons." For being pretty into you.
We reach the café, called Sweet Pea. He opens the door and I enter first into the warmth. It's moderately sized with golden lights hanging from the ceiling and wooden carvings decorating the wall panels and tables. Very cute and not at all what I thought he'd be into.
We join the short line at the counter.
"As for my enthusiasm," I continue, looking up at him, "You're exactly my type."
He blinks in surprise, "Am I?" Surprise turns to smugness. "I mean I could tell you liked my arms-"
"And I could tell you liked my legs," I interrupt, making him laugh.
Having let go of him when we walked in, his arm is free. He raises his hand and gathers up a small piece of my hair hanging by my face. He can pull it if he wants.
"This is definitely pretty," he says, "It's not naturally that colour, right?"
I fake gasp, "Don't ask a girl that. I might have been born with silver hair, you don't know." He laughs again. That might be my new favourite thing about him.
Before I can confirm that I do in fact love his arms and know of many ways I could prove it, something catches my eye behind him. A trio of middle-aged to elderly women sitting in a window booth are eyeing Roy and I with distaste.
Whilst it's not completely obvious, there is evidence of the age different between Roy and I. It certainly doesn't bother me- if anything it only makes me want him more. To a couple of old hags with no adventure left in their blood it is utterly scandalous.
They point, whisper things, pull faces, and when the youngest-looking of them sees me staring, she jerks her chin at me like she's daring me to do something. Typical Gotham, again.
"Kiss me."
Roy had been reading off the menu after the line moved.
"What?"
"Kiss me. I want to piss off those old ladies. Grab my ass if you want."
The way he looks at me when I say that is easily the thirstiest look I've ever been given. He follows my smirk to the women judging us, who look uneasy now that the big guy is staring them down.
He forms his own mischievous smile when his attention moves back to me.
I'm aching to touch him, so I do. I slide my hand up to the back of his neck and pull him down to me.
"Think they're jealous?" He asks. As his hands go to my waist and then slide down, I step closer, pretty much in-between his legs.
"Of which one of us?"
He snorts, "Good point."
Then we kiss.
His lips are thin and cold, but there's still a comfort to them. It isn't shy either and goes straight to tongue before his hands even reach my ass. He squeezes and I can't help but laugh. He tastes like mint and I realise that's one of the things he did before I even got to the apartment. Too cute.
I hear the hurried whisperings of the women and smirk as I pull away.
"Well that was one hell of a first kiss," Roy says, trying to remain calm. He looks up and over my head. "Our turn."
The girl at the counter looks flustered as we approach, his right hand still resting on my ass. The women are getting up to leave and aren't saying a single word to each other.
As they pass, the one who tried to provoke me glances at us. Roy spanks me once just for her to see and she nearly feints right there. I throw my head back and laugh, as does the other girl behind the counter who seems much more agreeable to our show.
No one else in the café really noticed what had transpired in the past minute but the guy behind us. Once again; typical Gotham.
Roy clears his throat with a smirk, "What do you want?"
For you to call me baby, honestly.
"Chicken parmigiana," I tell the girl.
"One chicken parma," she repeats, typing it in.
"Make it two," Roy adds. "And I'll get a lemonade."
I skim their menu, "Aloe vera for me."
As she rings it up, the other girl sidles over.
"You guys make such a cute couple," she comments, "How long have been together?"
I look up at Roy. He stares back down at me. Both of us agree in silence.
"Ten minutes," I answer.
He taps his card as both girls stare on, confused, either taking it as we've said or making things up in their head. Maybe I do look like a prostitute right now.
"Let's sit over there."
I grip his arm and drag him to a corner booth. There's privacy there just incase one of us gets too thirsty. We still sit across from each other, although I'd be happy to swing around the table and cuddle up next to him.
"You come here often?" I almost make myself laugh. It's such a cliché question.
"When Jason drags me out of the apartment we usually end up here."
I cross my legs under the table, kicking him gently at the same time.
"I don't usually come out this far cause of women like that," I nod to where everything just went down, "At least, not dressed like this."
He stares at my body, "You don't dress like that all the time?"
"This?" I gesture to my outfit, "No, I usually wear a lot less than this."
His eyes widen and his face shifts from a less coy smile to a more delighted one. When the waitress arrives with our drinks I can see all sorts of images run through his mind.
As soon as the waitress leaves I push his lemonade towards him, "Here, you look thirsty."
He presses his tongue against his teeth and looks away, as if embarrassed but trying to hide it. I think it's cute.
I get up and smoothly manoeuvre around to his seat. He quickly shuffles backwards so that he can lean up against the wall. I sit next to him and cross my legs under the table, again drawing his attention to them. There's still a bit of space between us.
"I think you're nervous," I tell him, sipping my aloe vera through a wide straw.
He laughs shortly, "So so far you think I'm hot, cute and nervous?"
I point, "Also a flirt."
"Can flirts be nervous?"
I shake my head, "You're not nervous about flirting. You're good at flirting. Flexing your arms and biting your lip and you're quick responses."
"Me?" He places his hand overs his heart, "Flexing?"
And the humour. Good humour. Not wholesome but fun and bright. I'm pretty sure I haven't smiled this much in a while. It's an oddly nice thought.
"Don't worry." My eyes turn low and him and move as close as possible, effectively pressing myself on him. I lean close to his face and speak quietly, "I already admitted that I like it, remember?"
The nervousness glints in his eye so I kiss him instead of waiting for him to move. Luckily that seems to encourage him and he responds eagerly. I slide my leg over his thigh, but I don't push my knee between his legs. He's not quite ready for that.
He will be soon though.
I draw back with my eyes on his, arm resting on his shoulder, my other hand on his chest. I turn my head and look at the bathroom hidden away near the kitchen door and make sure he catches my drift before I focus back on him.
Is it too soon? Maybe. Have I just exposed myself as a ho? Probably. The idea mulls behind his eyes and I literally see whatever thirst he did have fade slowly. I feel the weight of disappointed drop inside me.
Whatever I was expecting or hoping for doesn't happen.
He exhales like a nervous laugh and I retract, "Our um-" He swallows, "Our food will be here soon."
Interesting.
Too proud to do it in a public bathroom or too nervous to do it right now?
Either way, I try to act unaffected. I'm certainly not used to being told no. I shrug with the same flirty face I hope I had before, and start to move away from him.
"No no," he says, tugging me back by the waist. It isn't gentle and almost seems like he's panicking. Maybe this really is the first physical human contact he's had in a while. It's not like he and Jason hug it out all the time. Not that I imagine anyway.
Most humans are touched-starved. I don't like touching as a whole unless it's from someone I have truly come to like. Also a rarity.
"You're staying right here."
I end up with my back to his chest and my legs curled up on the seat. It's an unfamiliar sensation and it must be for him too, but I'm not going to decline it.
It's been a long time since I felt so warm and comfortable with another human being.
Also the first time I've been rejected.
So many firsts today.
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